


Not If You Both Go Together

by ShhImWriting



Series: Droid23 Bonnie and Clyde AU [1]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alcohol, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Blood, But it's a Bonnie and Clyde AU for droid23, Car Accidents, Death, Even if he's the clone version of Paul thats in love with the android version of Emma, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Depiction of Burns, Guns, Hidgens lives outside of Connor's Creek, I can't tag things, I love this funky murder couple, I'm bad at tagging things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Paul Matthews is a SIMP, Paul's smitten with Emma, SO, Softness, Tom and Jane never got married, Wayward guide references, You have to know how it ends with this au, anyway, implied robbery and murder, they're still in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShhImWriting/pseuds/ShhImWriting
Summary: A Bonnie and Clyde AU for Droid23, because I have no self control!!Hope you enjoy!!
Relationships: Droid23, Kinda Paulkins, Paul Matthews 23/Emma Perkins Android
Series: Droid23 Bonnie and Clyde AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199051
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	Not If You Both Go Together

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this song (as well as the small italicized bits) comes from the song 'Dyin' ain't so Bad' from the Bonnie and Clyde musical!!
> 
> All of the trigger warnings are in the tags (please notify me if I missed any of them!!)

_Dyin’ ain’t so bad...not if you both go together._

_Only when one’s left behind does it get sad._

_But a short and lovin’ life? That ain’t so bad._

She smiled down at her own written words in her old, small notebook, closing the dark blue leather-bound book Paul had given her ages ago, she carefully rubbed her tiredness from her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup as she glanced at the world that surrounded her.

Emma smiled at the expanse of country as it passed her by, peering out the car window as the golden fields and green trees beginning to move from summer to autumn welcomed her. 

She smiled as a soft hand landed on her knee from the driver’s seat, a thumb gently rubbing circles into the skin just above her knee, making her sigh. She smiled at the man driving, relishing how gentle he was with her, and yet how every single moment she’d had with him since he’d come into her life had been exciting. An adventure.

“What’re you writing?” he asked, smiling at her as she leaned into his touch, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“Oh, you know,” she shrugged, “Just a poem…” 

He smiled, “Can I hear it?” 

“Not til’ it’s finished, silly,” she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “But you will. It _is_ for you, after all.”

He tore his eyes away from the road for a moment, just to look at her, smiling at her like she’d hung the stars just for him. As if every flower on earth couldn’t compare to her in beauty. As if she wasn’t the abomination of machinery that everyone claimed she was. Like he loved her. 

He did. 

And she loved him.

Falling in love with him had been the easiest damn thing she’d ever done in her life. It was fast and all at once, making her feel like she’d been twisted inside out in a way that thrilled her. 

She peered up into his too-blue eyes and grinned, “We’ll make it, baby,” she smiled, “There’s no need to be anxious.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I just can’t help but be careful.”

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “We’ve had some close calls before, Paul.”

He nodded, “Too close…”

His hand went to the scar on her thigh, just beneath the thin material of her dark green dress and stockings. She sighed as he gently traced over it as if he were remembering that horrible day...the day he’d sworn to himself that he’d never let anyone hurt her again. She knew he still would beat himself up for what had happened, that he’d been so sure it was his fault, even if all that had happened actually hadn’t involved them running from the police or running a job. Even if she couldn’t feel pain or bleed in the same ways that humans could, she knew he would never stop blaming himself for that day. 

Her hand went to his wrist, where her thumb gently traced his small tattoo of the number twenty-three. A mark he’d hated and tried to remove many times, saying that it was a brand given to him by someone who’d wanted to gain ownership of him. To make him some mindless servant of a shady company...much like herself. Perhaps it was her understanding of the wildness that hid beneath her 

“Hey,” she sighed, “You know we’re gonna make it, right? Just a few more miles and we’re home free, baby.”

He nodded and smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against her hair, soft, gentle, and loving as always. 

They’d been driving for hours, trying to evade Hatchetfield law as a means of getting out of Clivesdale. They knew it was all they could do if they wanted to keep living the way that they were. They’d already lost Tom and Becky in the weeks before, Becky in prison and Tom six feet below, and Bill had just been arrested two days ago. They couldn’t afford to lose anyone else, and they couldn’t taunt John McNamara any longer. 

This, of course, was because Paul and Emma were by far some of the most notorious outlaws in Hatchetfield.

She cast a glance back to the backseat of the car, where they had stashed their multiple weapons, an array of guns, knives, and many different caliber bullets were strewn across the old leather of their stolen Ford, along with what duffle bags of money they’d managed to bring. Not that there was much of it with what they’d needed to get out of town, but they had enough to start the new life they both wanted.

She straightened her short, dark green dress and leaned over to press a soft and light kiss to his neck, wanting to distract him from whatever nervous energy he had. She stifled a small laugh at the sight of the mark her red lipstick had left behind on his skin. 

For being artificially produced, her husband sure was a nervous man. He sighed and tipped his head back, his black fedora falling off of his head, revealing his neatly-cut brown hair. She reached a hand up and gently ran her hands through it, her other hand going to the small ring she wore on a gold chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she smiled up at him. 

“Forever and always, right, babe?” she asked him, noticing how his eyes were still filled with some kind of worry.

He looked down at her, so much love and softness in his gaze. In his eyes, she could see the years that they’d spent on the run together. The softness and love that she’d come to adore about him. The close calls, the jobs, the rage they inspired in the public, hell, all the times they were afraid of losing one another. There had been wounds that they’d had to clean for each other, broken cars they had to fix, nights when they’d sit awake, holding each other and their firearms for fear that some unlucky law enforcement officer came upon them. All of this was something that Emma had never thought she’d find in her life, but after meeting him, she would risk anything. 

He met her lips softly, taking his eyes off of the road again to kiss her, one of his hands gently cupping her head as he did, one of his fingers twisting into her brown curls that were coiffed close to her head.

“Forever and al-”

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

\---

_I only hope to God that I go first._

_I couldn’t live on memories._

_I’m sorry, but I’m not that strong._

_\---_

When he’d first walked into Beanie’s she would have never guessed what his profession was. Judging from his apparently skinny stature and the way he walked timidly, she would have assumed he was a salesman of some kind. He was dressed in a dark brown suit, and his eyes were scanning the coffee shop nervously as if he were constantly worried that something might come and jump out at him. 

He was cute, she immediately decided. His eyes were so big and wide, she found it impossible to not get lost in them. Not only that, but he was fairly attractive...and polite, for that matter, so unlike most of the company she received at Beanies. Almost instantly she’d taken to him, trying to avoid serving that lewd cop she immediately despised who seemed taken with Zoey. 

She straightened the old apron over her mint green waitress uniform and walked to his table, smiling at him as she did. 

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice tired from the many nights she’d spent awake working, just trying to give herself a decent life in the middle of absolutely nowhere, “What can I get for you?”

He smiled politely up at her, “Um...just a coffee, please, black.”

For whatever reason, Emma found herself smiling back, “Anything in it? Cream? Sugar?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “Just a black coffee.”

When she’d retreated back to the front counter to make him his coffee, she didn’t look back at him, too tired from dealing with flirtatious cops and people who came into the diner for a pick-me-up. However, when she returned to the table to give the strange man with the gorgeous eyes his coffee, she found that he was gone. 

Strange...she couldn’t have been gone for more than two minutes.

She looked around, noticing only that a few more cops had come into the diner. 

_What the hell?_

_Where had he gone?_

It was then that something caught her eye. 

Glancing down, she saw a ten-dollar bill tucked underneath a napkin. Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the diner for the man once more, but she took note of some small words left on the napkin. 

_‘For the coffee, and a tip. Sorry, I couldn’t stick around, but I hope to see you again...if you’ll let me?’_

Though the note was vague and should have been rather creepy, Emma found herself smiling. She kept the ten dollars for herself and hoped that the man would show up again soon. 

And he did. 

Granted, it was at later times when the cops weren’t around, but he did come back, and more times than not, he stuck around for the coffee, always in the back booth, away from the eyeshot of the front door. On her breaks, she found herself talking to him, actually enjoying his company more than she did most people at Beanies. 

It took five visits for her to actually learn the timid, nervous guy’s name. 

“Paul,” he smiled, bashful that she’d even asked for his name, “My name is Paul.”

“Hi, Paul,” she smiled, “I’m Emma.”

They’d mostly talked about simple things, like how her day was going and the weather, but she immediately found that she enjoyed his company. In some ways, he listened. After several weeks of him coming into the diner for an hour or so, the both of them talking, she’d brought up Jane, and he didn’t judge her. As it turned out, he knew Jane’s would-be fiance before she’d passed on, Tom Houston. From what she knew, he and Tom knew each other relatively well. 

She enjoyed his company. He was funny in his bashful, unassuming way. He was kind and polite, and yet he got her crude sense of humor and didn’t judge her for it. In some ways she found herself enjoying the way his cheeks would flush every time she asked him a question or smiling every time he glanced at her. For a while, she fought against the notion that she was smitten with him...but she couldn’t deny it after a few weeks had passed; she was head over heels for him.

A few weeks after his first visit, he asked her if she wanted to accompany him to a film sometime, having told her about his own interest in different movies, and she’d readily accepted, excited at the idea of maybe getting to know him better outside of the diner. 

He never explained to her why he had the tendency to leave the diner as more cops would come in. 

But it wasn’t long before she found out.

It had been a Saturday, and she was walking to work when a bunch of policemen showed up outside of one of the old stores, owned by a crooked man named Frank Pricely, and thinking that the old man who liked to cheat a whole lot of decent people out of their money had finally gotten what was coming to him, she decided to remain and watch the spectacle. Instead of Pricely being arrested, however, it was Paul she saw, being walked out of the store in handcuffs, while another man, a man who’d been identified as Tom Houston had gotten away. 

While Paul was being put in the Police car, he’d made eye contact with Emma and the look of shame that had grown on his face was enough to break her heart.

It wasn’t that he’d committed a crime. Emma knew she would be a hypocrite if she were to blame him for that or hold that against him. It was the fact that he couldn’t look her in the eye that made her sad. 

For whatever reason, however, Emma knew in her heart that she didn’t blame him, and suddenly, she was more determined than ever to break him out. 

It was for this reason that she tracked down Tom, knowing he liked to hang out in the basement of the Birdhouse. Finding him had been easy for her, and it made her wonder if cops like Sam were actually worth paying for the shitty work they put into it.

As she entered the hole-in-the-wall, which had clearly not taken lightly to prohibition with as much whiskey and beer as it was smuggling in and out of its walls, she was almost instantly able to understand where Tom was, following the scent of gasoline and whiskey which seemed to be mixed with sawn wood. The seedy light of the bar itself was difficult for people to see, but she recognized his burly form almost instantly. 

“Tom,” she greeted as soon as she made her way down from the speakeasy, catching sight of the man who would have married her sister had it not been for her passing. 

The man looked up from his bottle of whiskey, his eyes widening as they fell upon her, “Emma?” 

“Who else?” she asked. 

“What…” he began looking shocked beyond imagination, “What are you doing here?”

“Relax,” she sighed, settling down onto a stool beside her would-be brother-in-law, looking drunk and sorry for himself, “I’m not here to turn you in.”

The man exhaled heavily, relief forming in his big eyes, “Thank God...We only robbed Pricely because...”

“I’m not interested in your excuses, Tom,” she said calmly, “I’m interested in your partner...your friend that got arrested earlier today.”

Tom’s eyes widened, “Paul?” 

She fought against the small wave of butterflies that rose in her chest at the sound of his name, “Yeah...him.”

Tom scoffed, taking another swig of his drink, “What about him?” 

Emma leaned in, whispering lowly, “I want to break him out.”

Tom’s eyes widened, almost choking on his drink. After hacking up some of the alcohol and somehow preventing it from coming out of his nose, he turned to her, “Are you crazy?!”

“I’m serious, Tom,” Emma half-growled, “I’m breaking him out, and I’m gonna do it with or without your help. Preferably with.”

Tom was silent for a moment, studying her, “Why do you think I’d help him?”

“Because,” Emma began, recounting several of the conversations she and Paul had shared during his visits to the diner, “He’s your friend. Almost like brothers, if I remember correctly.”

Tom’s eyes softened and he looked down, chuckling under his breath. He glanced back up at her, a strange look of recognition in his eyes, “So...you’re the girl, huh?” 

She paused for a second, taken aback by the statement, “What?” 

“Paul,” Tom chuckled to himself, taking another swig from his bottle, “I can tell when he’s been flustered, but this...man, he wanted to keep this separate from any of our jobs. He wouldn’t say much about it...but damn, the man was smitten. He’d smile and blush like a bride on her wedding day when I asked him, and he’d never tell me who it was.” Tom chuckled again, looking down at the bottle, “I didn’t think in a million years that it would be you.”

Emma fought against a smile.

It was strange. She barely knew the man, and yet she found herself filled with an emotion she couldn’t necessarily identify every time she thought of him. He was kept in her mind and every day she found herself looking forward to his every visit at Beanies. She didn’t know why she found herself suddenly filled with an urge to break him out of prison, especially when she knew that the chances for success were so low, and she would be incriminated as well...and she’d been so sure she wasn’t going to take that chance...not again. 

But she knew...for whatever reason...that she would risk anything and everything for him. 

“Do you care about him?” Tom asked, “As he cares for you, I mean?”

Emma considered the question. 

Did she care about a man who she’d befriended over a few small coffee conversations? A man who’d looked like he worked in insurance, but never really told her what he did for a living. A man who had a small tattoo of the number twenty-three on his wrist that he said he’d gotten as a teenager but never told her why. A man who only drank black coffee and still tipped her every time he came to the diner, even when times were hard and people were living with mostly the clothes on their back. 

Did she care about him?

“Yes…” she whispered, nodding assuredly, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

She chuckled slightly at the realization, making Tom chuckle himself and take another swig of his drink. 

Emma whirled on him, “Now, are you gonna help me or not?”

Tom sighed, looking down at the floor.

He was silent for a very long time, and Emma was almost about to punch him out of frustration. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so desperate to break Paul out of prison, but she knew that she was going to do it. She was going to do it and raise as much hell as she had to in order to get it all done. 

Tom looked up at her, “Alright. I’ll do it.”

She smiled softly and nodded at him, “Then let’s get it done as soon as possible.”

In the weeks that followed, she met with Tom planning what they needed to do in order to get Paul out of prison and actually escaping. She met some of Paul’s other associates, one of her favorites being a man named Bill Woodward, who’d gotten into the life of crime to feed his daughter. It took two weeks for them to develop a steady plan, which consisted mostly of Emma going to visit Paul in prison and smuggling a gun into his cell. This would allow for Paul to break out of prison and defend himself against the wardens and deputies, who, from Bill’s own reports, had a penchant for beating the prisoners and being exceptionally violent. 

The weeks passed and the day finally came when Bill drove Emma to the prison. 

She knew there was no turning back from the road she was taking, and to be honest, she didn’t care. 

She somehow had managed to keep every urge to show weakness at bay, her legs didn’t shake, nor did her hands as she gripped the cleverly wrapped package for Paul that Bill had provided her with. When the guards searched it, they found only the letters from ‘Paul’s mother’ which really just gave Paul vague instructions as to where to run once he made it out of the prison. The gun she was smuggling to Paul was cleverly placed just under her blouse, which she’d slip to him during her brief conversation she’d be allowed to have with him.

Once the gruff, tired prison guard let her pass through the gates, and she passed by various cells, she felt her heart in her throat, threatening to make her crack, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. 

It was then that she was led to a small cell off one of the main hallways, and it was there that she saw Paul for the first time in weeks.

She had to stifle a gasp at the sight of him. He was covered in bruises and welts, allowing her to realize just how painfully true the rumors about the treatment of the prisoners were. 

His eyes widened as they landed on her, “Em...Emma?” 

She smiled softly, tears filling her eyes at the sight of him, “P-Paul…”

Without another word, she rushed forward and hugged him, quickly removing the gun and sliding it under his cot as he caught her in his arms. He didn’t seem to notice. 

“What…” he began, pulling back to look at her, his eyes wide, “What are you doing here?” 

She held up the small package of letters, the real package already slid under his cot, “I brought letters...from your ma.”

His eyes widened as he understood the code that Tom had given her. Quickly and quietly, she slid the package of letters under his bed, right beside the gun. 

“I-I…” Paul began, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she was there, “I’m so sorry...I wanted to keep you away from this…”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Paul,” she whispered, “I knew you were runnin’ from the cops the day you first stepped into Beanies.”

His eyes widened and he looked sheepish, “Y-You did?” 

She nodded before cupping his face, “And it doesn’t matter to me, okay? I’ve only got two minutes, but I needed you to know that.” 

His eyes widened as he took in her words, looking like he’d been shocked beyond any formidable response.

“You know,” Emma whispered, “I told the guards I was your wife… they only let kin come in here to visit people...but God, after seeing you…”

She gently rubbed her hands over one of the bruises on his exposed arms, and he winced, his eyes never losing their softened look as he regarded her. As she took in every bruise and cut that marred his body, she found herself being filled with a deep, unrelenting rage. 

“I wanna kill whoever did this to you,” she whispered, looking down.

“Emma!” Paul whispered, his eyes darting around almost as if he was worried that she herself would get into trouble.

Knowing she was running out of time, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering in his ear, “The package. Use it. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He looked shocked, his eyes still lovingly staring at her, but filled with some sort of hesitancy, “I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not,” she whispered, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, stunning him speechless, “And I’m doing it anyway.”

With that, the guard returned, their time was up, and she found herself being escorted away from him, her eyes not leaving Paul’s until she was out of his sight. 

He broke out of prison a day later. 

According to the plan she’d developed with Tom and Bill, they were all supposed to meet up near Starry Cove a week after he managed to escape, just as soon as he’d thrown the cops off of his tail, and he’d managed to do just that. 

A week after her visit to him in prison, she found herself waiting by the boardwalk in Starry Cove, tapping her foot anxiously against the wood when he appeared. 

He looked significantly healthier and less battered up than he did when she’d visited him, and the second her eyes landed on him, her heart seemed to soar in her chest. 

Without thinking straight, she rushed forward at the sight of him and ran into his arms. With a laugh and a smile, he took her in his arms, holding her tightly. 

“You’re here,” she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes, “I knew you’d be.”

“Of course,” he murmured, looking down at her in disbelief, “The nerve you have, Miss Perkins…”

She merely smiled up at him, “What? You think I was gonna let a good-paying customer rot in jail?” 

Her fingers went to a spot on his face where a bruise hadn’t faded entirely, “I can’t believe they did this to you…” 

He shook his head, “I can’t believe you broke me out. Emma, you know if they found out you had something to do with this...”

“Let em,” she said, looking up at him with complete seriousness in her eyes, “I couldn’t leave you there. To hell with all of them.”

“Emma,” he whispered, his eyes wide, “You’re serious?” 

She nodded, “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, taking her gently by the hand and leading her to some rocks, as to avoid some of the regular lake-goers. When they were alone, he looked nervous suddenly, his eyes darting around before they landed on her filled with so much emotion that made her heart sing. 

“Well…” he began, his voice shaky and quiet, “I suppose it’s no secret that I...well...I’ve taken a great liking to you, Emma…” 

She snorted and raised her eyebrow at his nervousness, “‘A great liking’?” she echoed. 

He blushed and looked down, “Yeah...something like that,” he laughed and blushed again, a deep shade of red painting his face in a manner she found adorable, “Well...if...I dunno…”

“Paul.”

“If you maybe want to...I don’t know, stick around…”

“Paul…”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is-”

“ _Paul,”_ she laughed, cutting him off and making him blush again.

Gently, she took his hands in her own and pushed herself up on the balls of her feet to press her lips insistently against his. He gasped into the kiss, and before she could doubt that she’d made a good choice, he was wrapping his arms around her, holding her close against him. She smiled into the kiss, threading her fingers into his soft hair. God, he was a good kisser. It astounded her how much, she realized, that she’d wanted to kiss him. It felt as if she’d wanted to kiss him for ages, and was now being given the right chance to do it. 

They broke apart to breathe, his face flushed immensely, he looked shocked beyond words, once again, as if she’d managed to knock the very concept of words free from his mind. 

God, Emma didn’t know what it was that she was getting into…

But she knew she liked it.

“Yes, Paul,” she murmured, pushing herself up to meet his lips once more, once he’d recovered from the shock of the first one.

“I’ll be your partner in crime.”

\---

_There are some things in life you can’t replace._

_A love like ours won’t happen twice._

_When all his days are through...mine will be too..._

\---

It seemed that a life of crime fit Emma more than she knew. 

It seemed as though every day since she’d agreed to be with Paul had been an adventure, an adventure she didn’t want to end. Eventually, they’d managed to get bolder, sometimes striking with the help of Bill and Tom, striking fewer stores owned by corporate chains and more banks. The money they stole went to helping both themselves, as well as some of the struggling families they knew, which often went unnoticed by the law enforcement. 

Emma wrote about it a lot in a small blue notebook that Paul had given her for her birthday after they’d started running together, and every single day, despite whatever challenges they faced, she found herself falling in love with Paul just a little bit more. 

After a few years of them hitting grocery stores, encountering several law officials, they’d found themselves to be something of folk heroes to the people they’d grown up with. It seemed every law enforcement officer in Clivesdale and Hatchetfield was looking for them. Somehow, their numerous hideouts had never been found out by the police...and they were allowed to be on the run in a strangely wild and yet peaceful way. 

For a while, they stayed in a place called Connor’s Creek, where they laid low for a while, sometimes reminding Emma of a somewhat domestic life she turned away. Honestly, as she and Paul had been together for so long, she felt like their domestic life was perfect enough as it was. Hitting up banks, jewelry stores, and honestly any place they could score seemed like such a thrill to her. Far better than serving shitty coffee to corrupt cops day in and day out.

There was something about holding a gun and firing it at cops that were chasing them down that filled her with exhilaration. No matter how close each call was, and no matter how many times they made it out of sticky situations by the skin of their teeth, she found herself living life in a way that she never thought she’d ever be able to live. 

After she joined Paul in this life, she was certain she never wanted to leave it. 

In some ways, the trail of blood and angry cops they left behind made her feel like she was truly alive. 

Waking up next to Paul made every day seem like it was better and brighter. 

Though Tom and Bill often went their own ways to be with their families while avoiding capture- Tom to his new wife, Becky, and Bill to his daughter, who’d just gotten married -Paul and Emma stayed together through it all. 

Paul, sweet, unassuming, gentle Paul was also a lot more passionate and bold than she gave him credit for, and every night that she spent with him made her feel like she was the richest, most fortunate woman who’d ever lived. He was both gentle and loving, and yet he made her feel like she was the most beautiful and most powerful woman alive. Like she was a goddess who walked among them. Waking up next to him made her feel warm and loved, and every touch, every kiss, everything they shared made her feel warm and... _human._

No matter how much blood and terror they left behind them, as long as she had him she was happy, and she knew he felt the same. 

She never told him what she really was. 

And he never told her what he really was.

Both of them held a silent fear that the other would reject them if they knew the truth.

Fate, however, had other plans. 

They’d been driving for Connor’s Creek again, having recently hit up a bank in Clivesdale that had more cops involved than they’d originally thought, so returning to that small, midwestern town seemed like a good idea. The plan was to take a newer bridge, however, which would allow them to avoid any of the law enforcement in the area. After two years of being on the run together, they’d become experts at avoiding law enforcement.

It had started out as such a lovely drive, passing all of the tall trees slowly being cast into Autumn in the early chilly air, and they were coming upon the bridge when they realized that the bridge hadn’t been completed just yet. To make matters worse, they hadn’t realized the bridge hadn’t been completed until they were actually on the unstable structure. 

Emma had heard Paul shout something out about holding on, but it was too late. With a loud crash and a bang, Emma’s world went black. 

Paul had been the one to wake up first, finding himself somehow unharmed in the driver’s seat of the car they’d hotwired in Clivesdale. Almost instantly his eyes went to look for Emma, and instead, he found her door was cracked open, the metal bent, and the glass of the window shattered. 

“Emma!” he shouted, pushing himself out of the wreckage, despite a dull throb in his head. Panic filled him as he managed to get out of the car, finding that the car had landed at the bottom of a not-too-deep gorge, Emma was nowhere in sight, “ _Emma?!_ ” 

He scrambled around the car, the metal and paint all bent and chipped, he worried that any second he would come across Emma’s dead body any minute and the panic consumed him. As he stumbled to Emma’s side of the car, the scent of gasoline and something like acid hit him, making him feel sick, and it was there that his eyes fell on Emma, lying near the front of the car, the hood split open, unconscious. A sickening burning smell hit his nostrils and very quickly his eyes fell on her leg, where a pungent, clear fluid was dripping down onto her leg, making her leg burn and spark almost, burning away at Emma’s skin as she writhed and twitched oddly unconsciously, dirt and red mud dotted across her face like blood. Fear filled him as he gently pulled her away, flinching and almost vomiting at the sight of her burned flesh. He grabbed a shirt from the back of their car and wrapped it around the leg, not willing to look at the wound until he could get her someplace safe. 

He managed to pull both himself and the unconscious Emma, who looked like she was in some strange form of pain, up to the surface where he spotted a small cottage in the middle of the woods. He knocked on the door, and it was answered by an eccentric-looking man, who let him in without any questions, allowing Paul to gently put Emma down on a bed in a cozy guest room. Although the man offered to send for a doctor, he declined, knowing that if a doctor were to come, he and Emma would be taken by the police, and separated, and while Emma was wounded, he couldn’t take that chance. 

Once he’d gotten Emma settled, he left her with the man they’d met before returning to the gorge to retrieve what little personal effects, first aid supplies, and money they had, not wanting to leave themselves without any form of defense. They hadn’t killed anyone who hadn’t provoked them, but if it came to it, he would do anything and everything to protect Emma. 

Once he’d returned to the cottage, the man, a scientist by the name of Henry Hidgens came out to meet him, looking frightened and confused. 

“What is it?” Paul asked, fear filling him at the thought of Emma being worse, “Is she okay? The woman I’m with?”

“She’s fine, son,” Hidgens nodded, looking confused, “That’s what worries me.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, not willing to play whatever game the old man was playing “What...what do you mean?” 

“I’m a biologist...of sorts,” the man whispered, “I took a look at the wound on her leg...and whatever that car battery acid did to her leg. I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.”

“But…” Paul began, confused, “You said she was fine.”

“Oh yes,” Hidgens nodded, “Her vitals are fine from what I can tell...she’s in no danger from what I can tell...but her leg...I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Paul was getting frustrated, “What the hell do you mean?” 

Hidgens sighed, “I...I think you should look for yourself.”

Without another word, Paul rushed to the room where he’d left Emma less than half an hour ago, his heart pounding in his chest. The second he’d seen Emma in the wreckage, he’d been so terrified that she was going to die. He couldn’t bear the idea of losing her. In some ways, loving her had made his life all the more incredible. She’d added color and spice to an otherwise dull life of small-time jobs, making him feel like he could take on the whole US Army with her at his side. But to lose her…? That would break him. 

He pulled open the door, slowly and quietly, despite his every urge to be at her side immediately, and stepped into the room, his eyes immediately turning to Emma, where she was still sleeping on the guest bed, her injured leg wrapped up in some clean towels and elevated on a cushion. He went to Emma’s side immediately and took her hand in his gently, pressing soft kisses to her knuckles. 

Hidgens stepped at the end of the bed, immediately noticing Paul’s tense and protective gaze as he extended his hands to remove the towel from Emma’s leg. 

Hidgens sighed, “Listen, Paul…” he smirked slightly at having already known Paul’s name, “That is your name, right? I haven’t been seeing someone else on the front page?”

Paul said nothing, debating if he should reach for his gun or not, as the old man continued to speak, “If I were to turn you over to the police, I would have done it already. I have no intention to hurt Emma...so you’ll just have to trust me.”

Again, Paul said nothing, instead resolving to look down at Emma to push a few strands of loose hair out of her face, which was still caked with dirt from the gorge.

“Here,” Hidgens handed him a damp cloth, “She’s still covered in dirt.”

Silently, Paul moved to wash the dirt away, being gentle and careful as he touched her. His heart still pounded in his chest as he turned to see Hidgens pulling away the towels from Emma’s leg, revealing the mess of charred and damaged skin, however, instead of seeing blood, or any extensive damage, Paul saw a mass of wires and metal underneath Emma’s skin, just on her thigh, clearly damaged, and one of them sparking slightly. 

“What…” Paul whispered, wincing at the sight, “What is that?” 

“Evidently,” Hidgens whispered, “It’s her.”

Paul didn’t know what to make of that as the man stood to leave the room, “I’ll bring you both some tea and leave you alone. If you need any help, just let me know.”

Paul withdrew his gun with his free hand and pointed it at the man, his eyes never leaving Emma and his other hand ran gentle circles into her palm, “No one knows about this, okay?”

Hidgens snorted and nodded, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Paul didn’t leave Emma’s side as she slept, his eyes darting between her face and her leg. What was this? Why did it look like Emma was made of more wires and metal than she was flesh and bone? The answers didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was Emma and her wellbeing and he focused on that in the hours he sat next to her, silently praying for her to wake up.

In a few short hours, she groaned under her breath, her eyes fluttering open. A sigh of relief left him as he looked down at her, relieved beyond imagination at seeing her awake. 

“Hi, Em,” he whispered gently, smiling down at her.

“Paul…” she whispered, her voice raspy and exhausted, “What happened? Where are we…?”

He held his hands out to gently help her sit up, adjusting the pillows to help prop her up a little, “We were in a wreck...some of the car’s battery acid fucked up your leg…” he chuckled lightly, allowing himself to breathe normally for the first time since they’d crashed, “You scared the shit out of me, babe...but your leg...Emma, what’s going on with your leg?”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at her leg, her breathing picking up the pace as her eyes landed on the mass of metal and wires. Her eyes darted to him, “Paul...I can explain…”

“Why does it look like you have metal for muscles?” he asked, panicking that perhaps this was a worse issue than he thought, “Is that normal? Did the acid do someth-?!”

“No,” Emma sighed, cutting him off, looking down at the bed covers and playing with her fingers, “No...Paul...the…” she sighed, tears filling her eyes.

“Hey, Em,” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder, his heart breaking at the sight of her crying, “It’s okay, sweetheart...we’re okay...And I’ll get you help if that’s what you need...okay?” 

“No...Paul,” she muttered miserably, looking down, “It’s not...it’s not that…this...”

She sighed heavily and gestured to her leg, to the wires and metal that was practically falling out of her limb, “This _is_ me.” 

At his confounded expression, she went on, tears filling her voice, “I’m...not...a real human…” she breathed, “In fact, I don’t really know what I am...I just…”

“Emma…” he whispered, “What do you...? What does that…?”

She sighed and refused to look at him, tears pouring down her face before sighing again, the silence deafening before she spoke, “I just...um...someone just decided to _make me_ I guess…” she shrugged before looking at him tearfully, “You know, I didn’t just start killin’ when I met you, you know?” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that as she went on. 

“Apparently...some company,” she shrugged, trying to wipe tears from her eyes, “Just _made_ me out of the damn blue...modeling me after some real girl who’d lived in Hatchetfield.”

“Made you?” Paul asked, his heart filling with a form of indignance at the notion. 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, “She died god-only-knows-where, several years ago...but me? I was built. For labor or some shit like that...obviously, I didn’t take too kindly to it.”

She sniffed and looked down, “So...I killed my creators, and picked up where she left off…” she nodded before bursting into tears once more, her whole body shaking as she spoke, her words a small and weak whisper. 

“ _I’m not real._ ”

His heart shattered as she buried her face into her hands after her confession, small silent sobs escaping from where she tried to conceal them. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, hating the way she flinched as he did. 

“Me neither…” he whispered gently.

She paused, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. 

“W-what?” she whispered, looking at him in disbelief. 

He sighed and glanced down at his wrist. 

If there was any moment for him to tell her, he knew it was now. 

He held up his wrist to show her the small tattoo.

“I’m not the original Paul,” he sighed, swallowing down any and all anxiety he had relating to it. The time was now for him to tell her the truth. They’d gone too long without telling each other the truth, and if she had just been willing to reveal the truth to him, he needed to step up and do the same, “Like you...I was made, I guess...for labor on some weird corporate colony, I don’t know...but there were a lot of us. All based on one mundane guy who was none the wiser that exact replicas of him were being made…”

“Replicas?” Emma whispered, the look on her face making him feel like he should stop talking, “You’re just fucking with me…”

“No, Em…it’s the honest to God truth...I don’t know how they did it,” Paul shrugged, “But they did...they were gonna use us for God only knows what, but we didn’t like it. I raised some hell...and in the end, I was the only one who got out…”

He sighed, “I met Tom shortly after Jane died...and he was looking for someone to do a job with him. Seeing as how I’d run a mildly successful rebellion and had already killed the original Paul, I figured why the hell not…” he chuckled under his breath as tears filled his eyes, “Turns out I was really good at it….then I met you.”

A soft smile crossed his face at the memory. How he’d managed to fall in love with someone who was willing to walk one of the riskiest lines of life there was with him, he’d never know. He knew that the life they lead was risky, and he would risk anything if it meant he would stay at her side.

He sighed, “And that’s the truth...I’m so sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

There was a moment of silence where they said nothing, looking only at the hands which remained in their laps, when all of the sudden, Emma began to tearfully laugh, making Paul fall into it as well.

“What the hell?” she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes, “How fucked up are our lives?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know...but you...you’re n-not up-”

“No,” Emma shook her head softly, “I’m not upset. It’s strange...yes, but I don’t care.”

There was another moment of silence before Emma broke it tentatively. 

"And what about you?” she whispered, gesturing to her leg, “You’re not…”

“No,” he smiled, “In fact... _I only love you more…_ ”

Her eyes softened at his words, staring at him intently. He felt like his insides were doing cartwheels inside him. He sighed and took her hand gently in his own, running his fingers tenderly over her knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kept this from you,” she murmured. 

“Me neither,” Paul whispered, fighting against the doubt that was building in his mind as he failed to read her expression, “D-Do you still love me?”

She looked at him, a look of softness crossing her face. Before he knew what was happening, she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her, pressing her lips to his in a ferocious kiss. Somehow, even after two years of getting the privilege of loving her, her kisses still made his insides feel like they could soar. 

She pulled back, a lovely smile against her lips, “I do.”

He smiled, tears blooming in his eyes, “Then I’ll do anything to stay by your side.”

She nodded and kissed him again, “I know you will.”

\---

_Seems you get to live your life just once...if that’s how it’s gotta be…_

_\---_

_“Hey, Em...w-what if...h-how would you feel...wh-what if we...um...what if we got married?”_

Just a few moments after confessing their status as not-entirely-human beings Paul had asked her. He’d never looked more certain of something as he asked her, even though he stuttered over every word as he offered her a small ring that he must have gotten the last time they’d hit a shop. It was simple, with a small green gem at the center of a bronze band, and she immediately loved it.

Once she’d managed to fix her own skin, she and Paul were married by the man who’d offered them solace (A man who was no stranger to breaking the law himself it seemed), two days later.

Though it was just the two of them and a stranger, the two were married in the lovely woods outside of Connor’s Creek, surrounded by willow trees. Though there was nothing fancy, they had each other, and they were happy, forever swearing to remain with one another for the rest of their lives. It was small, but it was perfect, and she wanted nothing more from a wedding. 

Hidgens had loaned her a cream-colored dress, that was simple but lovely, as well as giving her a bundle of flowers he’d been growing in his own garden. It seemed that the man was a fan of organizing weddings despite his status as a possible fugitive, much like the rest of them. In the meantime, Hidgens offered Paul a new, cleaner shirt and washed a jacket up for him, allowing them to at the very least _look_ proper for their wedding.

The man had spoken a few words, they’d come up with their own vows on the spot, and just like that, they were married. 

It was so spontaneous and so quick, and yet it was _so perfect_.

In addition, Hidgens allowed them to stay in his cottage for one night more, deciding to retreat into the main town for the remainder of the night, leaving the two of them alone in that small cozy cottage. 

That night she smiled as she rested on Paul’s chest, the warmth from the quilts that covered them making her feel safe and at peace. A small fire was going in the guest room furnace, the crackling of the fire chorusing with the sounds of the peaceful night that surrounded them, a warm glow cast over the room. She could only smile to herself as she relished in the warmth of his skin against hers, breathing in the new world that they seemed to be confronted with now that they'd sworn their lives to one another.

Paul pressed a kiss to her hair, which had come out of her usual neat curls as he tightened his arms around her, both of them tired from the events of the day and earlier in the night, but too happy to fall asleep. 

She glanced down at the small tattoo on his wrist from where it was resting over her, holding her safe and secure against him. She nestled into the warmth of his skin and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. 

“Some wedding night, huh?” she asked him, looking up at him just in time to see him flush an adorable shade of red. It was funny, two years of being on the run together and he was still just as hopelessly flustered around her as usual.

He smiled softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life, Em.” 

“Me neither,” she whispered, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this before I met you.”

It was strange, they both had chosen to live a chaotic life that was in a constant state of war, and yet in moments like this that it all seemed to seep away. For once, they both felt like they didn’t have to keep running. Instead, they all felt like they were at peace. 

“You know,” Paul whispered, “I never thought, in a million years, that I’d ever get a chance with someone like you.”

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, “Really? You really thought that tipping me as much as you had did absolutely nothing?” 

“I mean,” Paul blushed again and shrugged, “I tipped out of courtesy...and from what I saw, your job gave you enough grief on a daily basis as it was...but maybe tipping is a good seduction technique.” 

She laughed and lightly slapped his arm before looking at him fondly. 

This man, this wonderful, perfect man was her husband. 

What she’d ever done to deserve a spirit that was so different from hers and yet so perfect for her, she’d never understood. 

“So, what are we thinking?” Paul murmured softly, holding her hand gently in his own to look at her ring, as well as his own, “Perkins? Matthews? Perkins-Matthews? Matthews-Perkins?” 

She hummed softly, “I could get used to being called Mrs. Matthews.”

He smiled, “I was just thinking I could get used to being called Mr. Perkins.”

She rolled over on her stomach, “So...you be Paul Perkins while I’ll be Emma Matthews? That’ll give the cops a run for their money.” 

He laughed, a smile she loved to see on him crossing his face, “That works for me...just know this...”

“Know what?” she smiled teasingly at him, folding her hands on his chest and resting her chin upon them. 

He smiled, “That I love you...Mrs. Matthews...Forever and always.”

A small part of her artificial heart melted at his words. Between his words and the earnest look on his face, she knew every word of what he said to be true. She moved up and kissed him on the lips, gently and passionately. 

“I love you too, Mr. Perkins,” she smiled, “And... forever and always? That sounds pretty good to me.” 

With that, he tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her down to kiss him again, smiling and laughing into her lips. She sighed into his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her again, and found herself getting lost in him all over again.

They'd promised to fight for one another. 

To run with one another. 

To stay together. 

Survive together.

Protect each other. 

Love each other.

Forever and Always.

Promises that neither of them was willing to break. 

And they never would.

\---

_Then I’d rather breathe in life, than dusty air..._

_\---_

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

_“_ Get down!” Paul shouted, throwing himself over her as she reached for her pistol on the floor.

It was all too fast.

It was all too loud.

It seemed like the bullets were tearing through her before she could reach her weapon. Before she could think of anything that she could do to protect them both. 

She could hear Paul shouting and herself screaming, all of it nearly muted against the sound of the gunshots which were tearing through their car. 

She could feel the bullets ripping through them both.

She could feel some of the wires and gears that composed her getting torn and ripped. 

She could feel Paul’s hands, which were holding her tightly lose their grip as he tried to protect her.

Emphasis on ‘tried’.

And then it all went silent. 

Emma opened her eyes, her false lungs failing to take in air...even if she didn’t need to breathe to survive. 

All she saw was blood. 

And she didn’t bleed…

 _But he did_.

By the time her eyes landed on his, she found life was leaving them.

“ _Paul…_ ” she whispered, her vocal cords damaged and torn by a stray bullet. 

“ _Em…_ ” he murmured, his entire face covered with blood, his voice barely a whisper. 

Those were his final words. 

And all life left his eyes. 

She couldn’t feel his heart beating. 

Those blue eyes that had captured her attention three years before were suddenly lacking in everything that had drawn her to him. 

He was dead.

And Emma couldn’t even find the strength to scream.

She might not have been able to feel physical pain as she knew her body was torn apart, all systems that made her who she was were shutting down, but she was filled with an unbearable agony that made her feel like she was slowly dissolving into nothingness. 

She might not have been able to bleed, but _oh God,_ she could cry. 

Tears slipped silently from her eyes as she weakly lifted a hand to cup his face.

A man who made her feel more human than anything else.

A man who loved her and accepted her despite the truth behind what she was.

A man who married her and gave her peace in a world of chaos.

Her husband. 

Paul Perkins. 

He was dead.

And she couldn’t do anything to bring him back. 

As the tears dripped faster down her face, she could feel the systems that kept her animated shutting down, unable to move her arms or legs. Unable to hold him closer as her body shut down. 

For once in her life, Emma didn’t try to fight it. 

In those last few seconds of her life, she just looked at Paul, her voice failing her as she stared at him. 

Her last words fell from her lips with her tears.

“ _Forever and always, Paul…_ ” she whispered, and then her eyes saw their last.

When John McNamara and his partner, Xander Lee, came upon the car that they’d spent several magazines of ammunition firing at, they looked into the bullet-punctured car, and looked upon the dead bodies of two of the infamous couple who’d wreaked havoc and terror upon Hatchetfield and Clivesdale alike….and strangely, they found themselves filled with pity. 

The man’s blood covered them both, and the wounds would never heal...but as they stared at the dead husband and wife, they felt as though they were looking upon a couple who was sleeping soundly, unmoved by the harshness of the world. 

The woman was clutching at the man, still, in death, her eyes closed peacefully as she leaned into him. His arms, although limp, wrapped protectively around her as they remained in their eternal sleep.

For a while, it looked as if they’d not killed the deadliest couple and bandits in Hatchetfield. Rather, in their eyes, they’d killed a husband and wife who looked to be on a pleasant afternoon drive. 

It could have read any way they wanted it, whether they disregard or acknowledge the guns 

They’d read up enough about the couple to know where they’d come from. 

And the wires coming from the bullet holes in the woman, as well as the bloodstained tattoo on the man’s wrist proved that the rumors were true. 

And so, they buried the two in one grave.

The two of them laying together in the eternal bed of the earth, and the sun no longer set in a world where Paul Perkins and Emma Matthews lived. 

Though few felt grief...the world remembered as the news was returned to Hatchetfield, along with the guns, money, and bullet-riddled car. 

But the bodies of Paul Perkins and Emma Matthews remained buried together. 

Side by side.

Forever and Always. 

\---

_Dyin’ ain’t so bad...not if you both go together._

_Only when one’s left behind does it get sad._

_But a short and lovin’ life?_

_A_ short _and_ lovin _’ life._

_A short and lovin’ life...that ain’t so bad._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Please leave comments or kudos to let me know what you think! I appreciate any and all feedback!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep


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